Blogging 2015: 762 down, 1253 to go (Lurong Day 11)

Finished up my last shift this morning early. 7 days off. Ahhhh...third shift life, son. Last night was very routine, to the point of dullness. That's fine. Means no one is getting hurt, getting sicker, or dying. I finished up a CE module and ate hot food. No problems there.

Midnight dinner. Since it was quiet, I actually had kind of a "break" to eat. I also indulged in a few minutes of reading. Then I started laughing, because Jenny Lawson's (aka The Bloggess) shit is funny and then I spent a few minutes clutching my side and trying not to cry. Stupid DOMS, fucking up my life.

Fish 'n veg.

I was supposed to be fasting 8-10 hours for this HRA. Yeah. That wasn't happening. Have you ever tried to fast on an overnight shift? It does not fly. Trying to stay awake and alert all night on water and decaf? That is enough to make a person homicidal. Do you know what is not conducive to good health care? A homicidal pharmacist. 

I did try to limit the amount that I consumed so that I wouldn't be inadvertently fucking up my labs. Around 3am I had some apple-carrot hash. 

It really is better with a runny egg.

Fantastic husband informed me that the HRA people let him go early, so he was able to get it over with. I really didn't want to wait 3 hours before going in, so I took a chance on being able to skip ahead. They let me. It might have been my dead-woman-walking appearance. If you say "I just came off shift" to a nurse at 7am, you get major pity points. As expected my weight was wonky. Measurements as expected, except apparently I'm an inch shorter than I have been for the last 20 years. It's comical, really. I'm just shy of 5'10", so I usually just say that height for ease. Especially because I'm over 5'10" in pretty much any pair of shoes. Not today, though. Nope. Today I'm 5'9". Maybe my bones are soft. I can't wait to get my dowager's hump.

I hadn't really intended to nap. I was going to clean, but I was really fucking sleepy, so I took a nap. Just a couple of hours. When I woke up I found a fresh bag of SweeTangos on the kitchen counter, so of course I crammed one into my face.

What are you looking at?

I had planned to go to a barre class with a friend at 5:30, so I wasn't going to be home for dinner with the fam. I can't work out on an empty stomach, though, so I had some nuts and raisins with my coffee before heading out.

Trail mixy.

Barre was fun. The friend in question turned to me after the plank series (there's always a plank series) and said "What the fuck was that?" She seemed less than amused when we moved to the barre and I said "This is the painful part!"  I've decided to join in on the October "Do yoga or barre at least 21 times this month" challenge. Why not. Yoga is good for my flexibility, and all those planks are only going to help me get my pull-up at CrossFit. 

There was a promo code for a recovery drink through Lurong, and I decided to give it a go. It's one of those B-vitamin supplement based dealies. Just a little bit fizzy, sweetened with agave, has a vague citrus flavor. I didn't hate it. I usually despise these kind of things, they always taste like shitty cough syrup (how do people drink Red Bull...it is revolting) and make me barfy. By the bottom of the can I was sort of grudgingly enjoying it. 

12 ounce can. Of course it's the tall style.

I drank my little recovery beverage while I reheated the dinner that fantastic husband made. It has an Italian name that translates to eggs in hell or something like that, from Nom Nom Paleo. Basically it's a spicy sausage marinara and you crack an egg into it and bake it until the egg is just set.  He doctored up the sausage to be at our preferred level of makes-your-nose-run spiciness. Holy shit is this delicious. Just fucking magical. I only drank about half the wine. When we went upstairs to read to the kids the dog sampled my wine, and I don't consume beverages that have had other tongues in them.

This is the most classiest egg ever.

Tomorrow is panic cleaning day. My mother is arriving on Saturday. She's more relaxed than she used to be about housekeeping, but I grew up with her as the woman who would ask teenaged me if I remembered to dust the baseboards. Dust the baseboards. Like people do that. She also had at one point a squeegee in her glass shower that she used to clean the glass every single time she showered. I can't live at that speed.

So. I have sheets to wash, kid laundry to do, bathrooms to clean, dishes to wash, and strategic hiding of clutter to accomplish. It should be fine as long as she doesn't have occasion to open any of the closets or look into any of the bedrooms.

Also I have a half marathon on Saturday morning and a meeting to lead Saturday afternoon. But it's cool.

Maybe I should've consumed the dog wine.